Once in a Blue Moon
by Pamchenko Twist
Summary: Librarian Belle goes undercover as a cigarette girl at a nightclub. As she engages in some breaking and entering, she runs into Private Detective Gold, who is similarly occupied. (Written for Rumbelle Secret Santa 2017)
1. Part 1: The Librarian

**Part 1: The Librarian**

Belle thought that picking a lock would be easier. Well, not _easier_ , exactly… just that she figured that she was prepared to do it more quickly. After all, she had read the section on the subject in _Practical Locksmithing_ by Jefferson Hatter so many times that she had it committed to memory. (She had finally returned the book to its rightful place in Section 683 before closing up the library several hours ago.)

But that studying had taken place in the comfort of her cozy apartment, with her cat in her lap and a hot cup of tea nearby. Somehow the experience was different in the darkened hallway of The Blue Moon nightclub, where she was under pressure to break into the owner's office (a) without anyone noticing and (b) before she was missed on the floor. Ariel, the club's headliner, had just started her set a few minutes ago. In Belle's month working at the club, she noticed that her sales weren't as heavy while the audience was enraptured with Ariel's performance. It was Christmas Eve, too, and almost everyone at the club had been happily imbibing all evening. Hopefully no one would notice that the cigarette girl had disappeared for a little while.

The tumblers finally gave way. Quickly glancing in both directions down the hallway to make sure the coast was still clear, she slowly turned the knob, pushed the door open, and quietly closed it behind her. Belle allowed herself to breathe a little sigh of relief as she started to look around the dimly-lit office, her gaze immediately on the desk and bookcase in the opposite corner of the room. Where should she begin to look? Where would Jones keep the kind of information she was looking for? She wasn't even sure what she was looking for, if she was being honest with herself.

"I was wondering when you'd finally get that door open, dearie."

Putting her hand over her mouth to stifle a yelp of surprise, Belle spun around to find one of the club's familiar patrons in the corner behind the door.

"Mr. Gold? What are you doing in here?" She asked in an urgent, but hushed, tone.

Gold kept his voice low, as well. "I might ask the same of you, Miss Bennet. I wasn't aware that Jones's office doubled as a stockroom for cigarettes. Don't get me wrong—I'd much rather see you than him, especially given the circumstances."

Belle paused a bit, as she often did at the hearing someone call her by her alias, but quickly recovered. "The circumstances of you breaking into this office?"

"And what was that fiddling about with the lock? Not exactly the sound of someone who is supposed to be here."

"Well, we can't all be experts in the art of picking locks."

Gold gave her a self-satisfied smirk. "Ah, but there's no need to pick the lock when you can bribe a member of the cleaning staff for the key."

"I'm beginning to think that Jones doesn't run the tightest ship around here."

That remark changed Gold's smirk to a real smile. "Obviously."

Belle smiled back at Mr. Gold. In her guise as "Lizzie Bennet", she was a cigarette girl at The Blue Moon, a sophisticated nightclub in Downtown Los Angeles. It was part of her job to be charming with the customers. Just as with the false name, she thought of the charm as part of the role she was playing. When it came to Mr. Gold, though, her charm and wit seemed to flow more easily. She felt more like "Belle" than "Lizzie" around him. She genuinely enjoyed talking with him on the occasions that they'd had the opportunity to have a few minutes' conversation. He was somehow different from most of the regular guests, many of whom were cronies of Killian Jones, the club's smarmy owner. For one thing, Mr. Gold was intelligent. For another thing, he didn't leer at her or talk to her in the patronizing tone used by many of the male customers. Mr. Gold seemed honestly interested in what she was saying when they spoke.

Shaking her head, Belle brought herself back to the present moment, and to the strange situation in which she found herself. Yes, she enjoyed talking to Mr. Gold…but how much did she trust him? They had caught one another breaking and entering, so she wasn't worried that he would snitch on her. But how much did she want to tell him about the reason she was here?

For some reason, her instinct told her that she could trust him. Maybe if she told him a little about her story, he would tell her a bit of hers. Maybe they could help each other.

"I'm looking for my friend, Anna."

She noticed that his eyes widened ever-so-slightly. So slightly that it could have been a trick of the light. She'd thought many times that they were nice eyes: wide and brown.

"I know that Mr. Jones is probably hiding many things in this office, but I don't think a woman is one of them."

Belle rolled her eyes. "Wow, you're a funny guy. I'm looking for _information_ that could lead me to my friend. She was working here when she disappeared a few months ago. I've been trying to find out if there's some connection to one of Jones' associates. I thought maybe if I could take a look through his papers, there could be a lead."

Mr. Gold looked as if he was trying to decide how to respond, when the sound of footsteps got increasingly louder outside. Belle's eyes went wide. This area was usually quiet during the show. Gold put a finger to his lips, an unnecessary gesture, since Belle was pretty sure she was speechless in fear at the moment. She instinctively moved closer to Mr. Gold until she was right up against his side. The steps seemed to come right up to the door. She glanced desperately around the office, and wondered if they could both fit under the big desk across the room. It could work—neither one of them was very tall.

Miraculously, though, the steps suddenly retreated back down the hall. Soon it was quiet once again, and the only sounds Belle could hear were her own thudding heartbeat and the muffled sound of Ariel singing a spirited "Winter Wonderland" out front. She and Gold stood stone still for what felt like an eternity, making sure that the steps didn't return.

Darn it. She hadn't even had a chance to look around, but she felt like it wasn't safe to stay in here any longer.

"Miss Bennet, I believe we should take that as a sign that it's time to go." The whispered words were warm against her temple.

"Miss French."

"Excuse me?"

She turned her head and looked up into his eyes. "My real name is Belle French. In case something happens when we open that door, I thought you should know."

His lips quirked into the faintest smile. "Now that we've been properly introduced, shall we, Miss French?" He gestured towards the door.

As luck would have it, the hallway was empty when they slowly opened the door and made their way back towards the main room. They came to the intersection of another hallway that lead to the dressing rooms, and Belle retrieved her tray of wares from under the tablecloth-covered table that she'd left it under.

Mr. Gold nodded and turned to leave, but Belle put a staying hand on his arm and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "We still need to talk. Meet me at Granny's Diner in an hour. You know where that is?"

She finally seemed to have rendered him speechless. He nodded again in the affirmative. Belle fastened the strap attached to the tray around her neck, and once again became Lizzie, purveyor of cigarettes. She would have to invent some excuse to leave a little early.

Looking back over her shoulder as she headed back to the floor, she smiled at him. "I'll see you there?"

He smiled back. "I wouldn't miss it…Miss French."


	2. Part 2: The Detective

**Part 2: The Detective**

According to some people, it never rained in LA, but a soft rain had started to fall on this unusually chilly Christmas Eve. Fifty minutes after Miss French had told him to meet her in one hour, Gold was seated in a booth at Granny's. Say whatever you would about him (and many did), he was punctual. He sat facing the door, in a booth as far away as possible from any eavesdropping ears. Due to the fact that it was open all night (or, as the sign on the window proclaimed, "OPEN ALL NITE!"), the diner had always been a popular spot for the cops in the neighborhood. He hadn't come here often since leaving that life behind. Ignoring the proprietress' pointed greeting of " _Detective_ Gold" when she came by the table, he ordered a cup of coffee and waited for Lizzie (no, not Lizzie—Belle) to arrive.

The lulling sound of the rain outside turned his thoughts to Belle and their encounter back at the nightclub. She had been the last person in that club that he expected to encounter when breaking into Killian Jones' office. He had been relieved when it was her that opened that door, and not one of Jones' goons. For one thing, he hadn't fancied getting into a fight. For another thing, he actually liked Miss French.

In her short time working at The Blue Moon, Belle had succeeded in becoming the only person with whom he truly enjoyed talking. Their conversations had never been particularly lengthy (she was on the job, and in a way, so was he), but they were his favorite part of the evenings he spent at the club. She was bright and quick-witted when she spoke, and thoughtful and engaged when she listened. And even when she must have been rattled to find him in that office, she didn't show it, choosing instead to give him a taste of his own smart-mouthed medicine.

The decorative bells that hung on the front door jangled as the door opened, heralding Belle's arrival and bringing him out of his reverie. She quickly closed the door behind her, and shook the water from her coat. For some reason, he was relieved to see that she was protected from the weather: she carried a now-closed umbrella, and was wearing galoshes over her high-heeled shoes. She had let some of her hair down from the pinned-up style she wore at the club, and the cold brought a lovely flush to her cheeks. Immediately seeing where he was sitting, she smiled and made her way to his table.

She hung her coat on a hook on the side of the booth, and sat down. She had changed out of her uniform, and now wore a long-sleeved dress in a shade of blue that made her eyes seem even brighter than usual. _"Pull yourself together, man,"_ he reminded himself.

"Mr. Gold. I'm so glad you came."

"I am a man of my word. I have to say, I'm intrigued. How many cigarette girls know how to pick a lock?"

"Librarian." At his raised eyebrow, she continued. "I'm a librarian at the Central Library." She leaned forward, and proudly confessed in a lower voice, "I learned how to pick a lock from a book."

"Being a former public servant myself, I know that the pay isn't especially lucrative. But was a second job really necessary?"

Belle giggled, showing a dimple in one cheek. "It was the only way I could think of to get close to people who were around Anna when she disappeared. I thought being in the same surroundings that she had been in would help me find some clue about what happened to her. The police seemed too busy to care."

At that moment, Granny came to take their order. "Hi, honey," she said warmly to Belle, whom she obviously recognized. The older woman then turned a suspicious eye towards Gold. "You doing OK?" She directed the question to Belle.

"Happy Christmas Eve! I'm fine, Granny, but I'm starving: could I get a hamburger—extra pickles–and a cup of tea?"

"Sure thing. Anything for you, Detective?" He ordered the same, and he and Belle were left alone once again.

Belle met his eye. "So you were a cop, right?"

She had probably heard the gossip. A lot of it was true, too. Dirty cop. Disgraced.

"I was, until I decided that I preferred working for myself. I'm a private detective now."

There was no judgment in her eyes. "What made you change your mind?"

"I made some mistakes. Several mistakes. I became a police officer with the best of intentions. I wanted to help people. But somewhere along the way, I started helping myself more than the public. I'm also not very good at following orders or working with others. It's better for me to be in business for myself."

"At least you're honest about it. From what I've overheard at the club, there are plenty of officers that are making a pretty penny for themselves. But they're still on the public payroll."

This woman kept surprising him. "What about yourself? It's not every librarian that would moonlight as a cigarette girl and learn to pick locks, using a Jane Austen alias the whole time."

She laughed, a full throaty sound. "Ah, you got that. Maybe it was a little obvious, but I took a gamble that Jones and his buddies weren't big Austen readers."

"Or literate."

"Exactly."

As they ate, Belle told him about her work at the library, and then the conversation turned to her friend, Anna. They had lived in the same building for two years, and had become good friends. Before her disappearance, Anna had become smitten with a man named Hans that she had met at the club. Belle had never met him, but from Anna's description, he was handsome, charming, and well-to-do. It had been a whirlwind courtship, and they were soon engaged. Anna disappeared shortly after the engagement. In her time employed at The Blue Moon, Belle hadn't encountered Hans, but once heard his name mentioned in passing as a business associate of Killian Jones.

"So that's why I was in that office. I wanted to see if there were any clues about Hans or his business. Anything that might lead me to Anna. So what were you doing snooping around Jones' office?"

He could have evaded the question. As they had been talking, though, Gold decided that he trusted Belle. Maybe she had been right earlier. Maybe they could help each other.

"It seems, Miss French, that we have more in common than both being drawn to public service and breaking into locked rooms." He paused and sipped his coffee. "A young woman recently hired me to find her sister. They had been estranged for several years. All she knew was that her sister had moved to the city. The woman's name is Elsa, and her sister's name is Anna."

Belle's eyes went wide. "So we've been working on the same case all along!"

"Indeed. I learned from one of my old police acquaintances that Anna matched the description of a young woman that had gone missing. I found out that she worked at The Blue Moon. At the club I heard that she had been friendly with a young man that used to visit fairly often. I hadn't been able to find out much about him or where he came from, or how serious their relationship had become. I never heard that they were engaged."

"That makes sense. Anna said that when they'd go out, it was always away from the club. It seemed weird to me. Anyway—go ahead."

"Before you joined me in Mr. Jones' office, I was able to briefly look through one of his ledgers. I did see records of payments received from a Hans Westergaard. I also saw reference to a company owned by someone named Westergaard. Their offices are near the harbor."

"You're able to remember all that after only a short look?"

"Would it be bragging to tell you that I have photographic memory?"

"That's a great lead! It has to be connected. How many guys named Hans could be visiting the club? I want to help you investigate that company." She took a sip of her tea. "We are working together on this now, right?"

Gold had told her that he didn't work well with others, but Belle was different. She was earnest, and she knew Anna personally and recently. She was smart and resourceful, and most importantly, she cared about finding her friend.

Belle bit her lip (an adorable habit that he noticed before), waiting for his answer. "So…partners?"

"Partners." He raised his cup to hers, and they toasted on it. Belle gave him a wonderful, toothy smile.

They were interrupted by Granny leaving the bill on the table. He went up to the counter to pay the bill and when he returned, Belle was humming along with the song playing on the radio behind the counter. The sound of Judy Garland singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" filled the diner, and Belle softly joined in:

 _"Someday soon, we all will be together  
_ _If the fates allow  
_ _Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow…"_

She sighed as the song finished. "I love that song. It's so sad, but there is sadness at Christmas, too, you know? Remembering loved ones who are gone. It makes me think of my mom. She loved Christmas. She died seven years ago, but I still miss her so much."

Gold couldn't believe that he heard his own voice confessing in kind. "It never really goes away, I suppose. My son loved Christmas, too. I always miss him, but especially at this time of year."

Belle gave him a sad, sympathetic smile. "I didn't know you had a son."

"We had a falling out when I was still with the police. He didn't approve of the way I had taken to doing my job. I haven't seen him in years. I wish I could find him and make amends."

Perhaps that was why his missing person cases were the ones that meant the most to him. If he couldn't be reunited with his boy, at least he could help others find their loved ones.

Apparently able to read his mind, Belle reached across the table and grasped his hand. "We will find Anna, and reunite her with her sister."

Gold looked down at their joined hands. He believed that they would, too. With her determination, how could they not?

Belle looked at her wristwatch, then moved to stand up. "Well, I guess Santa won't come if we don't get home soon."

"I think he's crossed me off of his list."

"Mmmm…you never know. You could always try bribing him with cookies and milk. After all, it worked on the cleaning staff at the club."

"That cost a little more than some cookies." He offered Belle's coat to her, helping her into it. "Shall we?"

As they walked out the door, they were welcomed by an unbelievable sight. Rain was one thing, but now it had started to snow— _snow_ —in Los Angeles. Belle giggled in delight.

"Oh, my goodness! A white Christmas! See, Mr. Gold? Miracles can happen."

"Every so often. And please call me Rupert. I mean, if you'd like. Since we're partners." He hailed a passing taxi.

Belle formally offered him her hand. "Rupert, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Belle."

He took her little, gloved hand in his. "A delight, Belle. I trust I'll see you soon?"

"Would Sunday morning at 9:00 work? I don't have to work—either job—on Sundays."

"Sunday it is. In front of the library?"

Belle nodded, and he opened the taxi's rear door. She turned to get into the car, then impulsively spun around and hugged him.

"Merry Christmas, Rupert."

Snow fell around them, and the bells from a church celebrating Midnight Mass sounded in the distance. Gold closed his eyes and returned the embrace. Belle was tiny, but he felt fully enveloped in her warmth for that all-too-brief moment. She pulled back and gave him one last smile.

"Merry Christmas, Belle."

Belle waved goodbye through the window, and the taxi drove off. Gold watched the car disappear down the street, still feeling the imprint of Belle's warmth and softness against his body. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt that kind of peace.

It seemed that Miss French really did have a talent for unlocking closed doors.


End file.
